The Wicked Day (2 page)

“Back to the post!” bellowed Bordeall. “You let something like that distract you, an’ you’ll be dead your first battle!”

“Ya heard ‘im!” yelled the apple-thrower. “Back to yer post or yer dead!” The other children screeched with laughter.

“Sir,” said Arodilac, looking outraged, “would you like me to—”

“No,” said Owain.

An attempt to deal with the children, regardless of how irritating they were, would end poorly. The children could drop down on the other side of the wall in a trice. Taking their parents to task, if they could even be found, would result in more hard feelings in the neighborhood. No. It would be more prudent to ignore the little wretches. Besides, it would do the recruits no harm to be laughed at.

“Bridd.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m assigning you to oversee the watch duty of our new recruits, effective this Saturday.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“They’ll be rotating shifts as I won’t have three raw men on the wall at the same time. That means you must remain on active duty. You’ll bunk here at the barracks and I won’t tolerate slipping out to taverns or up to the castle, do you hear me?”

“Yessir! Thank you, sir!”

Owain did not know what to say after this happy acquiescence. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. Arodilac beamed at him.

“That will be all.”

“Yessir!”

He watched Arodilac march away. There was too much jauntiness in his walk. Owain frowned. Perhaps he had done the wrong thing. The three new recruits trooped past him, saluting raggedly. Bordeall strode over to Owain.

“They’ll do,” said Bordeall. “Given enough time. That old feller, Posle, he’s an interesting one. Hasn’t got but three teeth in his head, but he’s as wiry as a weasel. Handled a weapon before, that’s certain. Not much grace, but he’s got strong wrists and some knack.”

“Bordeall,” said Owain, “would you know why Bridd would be happy to pull extra duty next week?”

“I do,” said Bordeall. A rare grin split his face. “The lads’ve been talking about it. Apparently, there’s some lord coming to Hearne with his daughter in tow. Bridd ain’t so keen to be caught, if you know what I mean.”

That made sense. The duke of Vomaro. Only it probably wasn’t his daughter. The duke had only one daughter and she was married. Or had been. Perhaps there was a granddaughter?

“Ah,” said Owain, trying not to smile. “Well, I don’t blame him. Now, Bordeall,” he said, clearing his throat, “I’d like to discuss something with you.”

“Of course, my lord.”

They walked along as they talked and, without plan, they found themselves climbing the stairs behind the barracks up to the city wall. It was cold in the shadow of the wall, but the sunshine was warm at the top. The sky was pale with a thin, bright light. The fields were sun-beaten by the summer, the last stands of corn hammered into gold. The river wound away to disappear between the narrow divide of the gap at the far end of the valley.

“Corn’ll be done in a few weeks,” rumbled Bordeall. “Seems a quieter, easier place outside the walls than inside. Most days.”

“Don’t you believe it,” said Owain grimly. “There’re things out there worse than nightmares. And the Guard’s in no condition to defend this city if it came to that. Oh, I can’t imagine we’d ever find ourselves in an all-out war. But lately I’ve been thinking about a cadre for fast actions. Swift response and quick, brutal fighting. Sturdy horses. Training for archery at the gallop. Do you think we can put together such a force?”

“That’s how the men of Harlech fight. But we don’t have the horses.” Bordeall shook his head. “The stable’s at half-strength, an’ most of the horses are old. We’ve no one handy enough to instruct, and I’ve my doubts as to how many of our men’d be suited for such fighting. It'd take months to train 'em up. Course, if we had the gold for it, we could hire away, but we’ve barely enough to pay the men and keep them in gear and housed. It comes down to gold. Plain and simple.”

“Gold!” Owain spat over the wall.

Both men were silent for a while.

“No luck, I take it,” said Bordeall, “with the regent?”

“None.”

“Well,” said Bordeall, after a long and gloomy silence, “perhaps there’s another way to find our gold.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The Thieves Guild. Doubtless, they’ve plenty of coin, and they don’t pay tax. Maybe it’s time they start paying.”

Owain returned home late that evening. A cold wind had arisen with the moon and it chased him through the streets. He hunched in the saddle and pulled his cloak tighter around his neck. A door banged open down the street and three men stumbled out of the light. He could hear them laughing and calling back. The tavern sign over their head swung drunkenly in the wind.

“A load o’ herring,” laughed one of the men. “Can ya believe it? Lifted a load o’ herring!”

The tavern door slammed shut and the men staggered down the street, arms around each other’s shoulders for support.

“Reckon the ol’—the ol’ sh-shilentman’ll pay for fish? Fish! Here, fishy, fishy!”

The three men dissolved into laughter again. They had almost drawn level with Owain, and one of the men looked up, squinting in the evening gloom.

“Whassis? Whosis, eh?”

“Looky here,” said another of the men. Moonlight glinted on a silver tooth in his sudden grin. “We got ourselves a fancy-lookin’ feller. Hey there, feller! Hi! We’re poor folkses an’ we’re takin’ up a collection, shee, for other poor folkses.”

“Yesh,” hiccupped the third man. “We sez poor folkses cuz thash ush.” He attempted to bow and fell flat on his face.

“Gettup,” said the first man. “Gettup, I sez! Yer an embarrash—an embarrashment to all us poor folkses! Gotta keep yer chin up afore these rich folkses.”

“Which is you,” said the second man, swaying on his feet and addressing himself to Owain’s horse. “So hand over your purse, or I’ll stick ya, shee?”

He produced a knife and waved it about in the air. The first man, who had almost succeeded in hoisting his fallen comrade to his feet, dropped his charge and plucked a club from his belt.

“Yesh,” he said, sidling forward. “Or I’ll stick ya too!”

“A club, you fool, is a blunt weapon,” said Owain coldly, “and thus incapable of sticking, as you so claim.” He kicked the man in the face and nudged his horse with his knee at the same time. The horse stepped forward and trampled the man with the knife. It was a warhorse and did not appreciate weapons being waved about under its muzzle.

“Idiots,” said Owain to himself.

But what the drunkards had been discussing stuck in his head. The Silentman. Someone had stolen a cargo of fish and attempted to sell it to the Silentman. To the Thieves Guild. His thoughts drifted back to Bordeall’s suggestion. Owain had been thinking of little else all day long. He had laughed off the suggestion at first, but he had been unable to get the idea out of his mind.

The Thieves Guild would have plenty of gold. It was what they did. They stole it. And the regent had always decreed a lax hand as far as the Guild was concerned. Anything short of murder was his policy. Anything short of murder, my dear Owain, and you needn’t waste your time following it up. After all, it’s a safe assumption that the Guild’s spending their money in Hearne, and that’s good, isn’t it? What if a window or two gets broken? It gives more business to the glaziers, and more business is what we need.

Owain scowled.

He had never liked the regent’s reasoning. But the regent’s word was law.

The lantern at the gate shone bright and clear in the night. He swung down from the horse. A servant took the horse’s reins and led it away. A few lights gleamed in the windows, but most of the house was dark. The front door swung open and he saw the silhouette of his wife in front of the light. He kissed her and she shut the door behind them, smiling.

“Sibb,” he said, frowning, but she stopped him with a hand at his mouth.

“Not until you get some food in you,” she said. “I know that look. Not a word more.”

He ate at the kitchen table. The house was quiet around them. Sibb lit a candle and placed it in the middle of the table. She propped her chin in her hands and gazed at him as he ate.

“Well,” said Owain, pushing the empty plate aside, “I didn’t marry you for your cooking, but I would’ve eloped sooner had I known about this stew.”

“You forget,” said Sibb. “I was a dreadful cook then. My mother despaired of me. Don’t you remember the bread?”

“I always thought we could’ve made our fortunes by selling them as bricks. Or we could’ve changed the tactics of siege warfare forever with the introduction of the catapultable loaf.”

“Stop it!”

A servant peeked in the kitchen and then tiptoed away, smiling. It was always good to see the master and mistress laughing.

“Now,” said Sibb, “What’s on your mind?”

Her husband frowned.

“Gold is what’s on my mind.”

“My jewels,” said Sibb promptly. “I could sell them. I never wear them, anyway, and none of the girls are likely to care about that sort of thing. They’re more interested in horses and swords.”

Owain laughed. “I need a lot more than what your baubles could bring. The Guard’s in sad shape. We’re short of men, equipment, horses, but the regent won’t open his coffers for us. He’s adamant about it.”

“And yet you have an idea. I can hear it in your voice.”

“I do, though it’s not my idea. Bordeall suggested it, and even though my first inclination is to ignore his advice, I’m starting to think there might be something in it.”

“And the idea?” she said patiently.

“Bordeall wants to rob the Thieves Guild.”

Night had arrived in completeness now, and nothing could be seen through the kitchen window other than a few splashes of moonlight on the rock wall in the garden. The candle on the table between them illumined the worn wood of the tabletop, the curve of the plate, and their faces. They stared at each other, both of them intent and frowning, for Sibb could scowl just as fiercely as her husband when her mind worried upon a matter.

“The regent’s always discouraged the Guard from prosecuting the Guild. He seems to think they bring business to Hearne. Business enough to excuse their excesses.”

“Business?” said Sibb angrily. “The Guild brings the business of mending broken windows, of buying stronger wards to keep them out, mastiffs for the garden, and higher prices in the shops. That’s not business.”

“At least, it’s not the sort of business we should be proud of.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Sibb pushed her chair back from the table. She returned with an apple and a knife. The fruit fell apart in neat sections under her hand.

“Here, eat.”

“At any other time,” said Owain, “I’d grumble and obey the regent’s wishes without another thought, but there’s something strange in the air these days. Something dark has come to Hearne, even to this house. Maybe it’s gone for now, which is well, but I fear it’ll return in some unforeseen form. The Guard’s woefully undermanned and I’d like to build them up into a force more akin to what my father had when he was in command. But I can’t do it without gold.”

“Then steal it.”

Sibb glared at him so fiercely that he had to smile.

“In truth, my dear, I’d rather face a warrior on the field than you in your kitchen. A rolling-pin is a deadly weapon.”

“I’m serious.” His wife leaned forward into the glow of the candle. Her eyes filled with light. “Steal it! I detest the regent. I loathe him. He’s a spineless shadow of a man. If he can’t rule, then the ruling must be done for him. Why, only last week, Marta, our old charwoman, told me her son was beaten at the docks by a couple of Guild enforcers. And for what? Because he refused to pay for protection.”

“I wish you’d told me that sooner, Sibb.”

“I only just remembered now. Our recent excitement made me forget.”

“How’s she doing?”

Sibb’s face softened and she smiled.

“Better. I think her nightmares are fewer. She’s been playing with the girls lately, but she still won’t talk much.”

“She’s our girl now,” said Owain.

“Yes.”

They sat for a while more in silence. Owain closed his eyes and listened to the house. Outside, the wind moaned about the eaves and peeked in the windows, but all the locks were latched and the curtains drawn against the night.

“I’ll try my hand at thievery,” he said.

Sibb nodded, but did not say anything.

CHAPTER TWO

OSTFALL

“Tracking isn’t so difficult,” said Declan. “Once you know what to look for. Now, you see? Giverny stepped here, perhaps a day ago, I’d say.”

He knelt down on one knee and touched a broken and withered blade of grass. Jute peered over his shoulder.

“It doesn’t look like much of anything at all,” he said. “That could’ve been a rabbit. Or one of those hedgepigs.”

“They’re called hedgehogs, and it wasn’t either.”